


A Girl is a Gun

by abreakfrom_reality



Series: SolCal [4]
Category: Andromeda Six (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, ooo gimme that sweet sweet sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-22 12:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30038964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abreakfrom_reality/pseuds/abreakfrom_reality
Summary: If he was being honest with himself, Calderon didn’t know what to make of Solange.
Relationships: Calderon Lynch/Traveler
Series: SolCal [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2212545
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	A Girl is a Gun

**Author's Note:**

> Lol, here's Cal's POV when it comes to a certain traveler

If he was being honest with himself, Calderon didn’t know what to make of Solange. She ran hot then cold, hurling obscenities at Damon in the same breath she shared a laugh with Aya. A laugh that was so intense she’d shake with silent laughter like the sound completely dropped off before she snorted and returned to not so delicate, audible gasps. It was the lively, purposeful sway of her hips, the brow cocked up and lips pulled back in disgust when she was annoyed, and the way silent contemplation bordered on pain when her thoughts drifted to a past Calderon could never understand. 

This was the surviving heir of the Peg’asi family, the very threat to Zovack’s carefully planned schemes, and the very last thing Calderon needed in terms of distractions. He could remember her taste, a memory that would never suffer from neglect, and hadn’t for the first time wondered what it would be like to watch her fall apart again, in his arms, sheathe inside her warmth. The thought was usually gone as quickly as it came once he remembered her other qualities. Insubordinate. Solange would rather march to the beat of her own drum than follow explicit orders. Argumentative. He knew she reveled in getting under his skin, no matter how small or stupid the fight. So why did he find his gaze often traveled to her when they occupied the same space? 

His heart was guarded but he had eyes, and he _noticed_ things _._ The way her hair wasn’t completely contained in the single, sometimes double buns she wore, Calderon was never surprised to see coiled, woven strands dangle in front of her eyes. She’d absently tuck them behind her ear, sleek black against striking dark brown skin, leaving Calderon to silently marvel at the contrast. She was the smallest of the Andromeda Six crew, but the way Solange carried herself, held her own despite the fear that flashed behind deep brown eyes, was something he grudgingly respected. She hid it fairly well, but Calderon caught glimpses of it. He’d had more than a glimpse the day he’d found her on Teranium after she’d disappeared. The haunted look in her eyes paired with guilt and something that looked a lot like heartbreak was replaced with the angry fire Calderon now knew too well. 

“Are we gonna train or what?” Solange asked from across the makeshift workout room, bringing him back from his thoughts. Her eyes twinkled with something akin to mischief. Calderon glared, ignoring the drop in his stomach as she laughed at his expression. It was a pleasant sound and she had no idea what it was currently doing to him. He intended to keep it that way. “Let’s work on your stance, stowaway.” He closed the distance between them, ignoring the sharp eye roll and click of her tongue against her teeth. “Whatever you say, Commander.” Calderon’s eyebrow twitched and he took a deep, steadying breath. It was going to be one of _those_ interactions. Solange watched him, the barest hint of a smile on her face. Two people could play at this game, Calderon thought. Without warning, he pushed her foot with his own, and she squawked indignantly as he moved her other into place. 

“What the _hell_!”

“Your balance is important. If you’re not stable, you’re as good as dead.”

There was nothing but pure fury in the glare she directed at him, but it helped remind Calderon the purpose of their meeting. There wasn’t any room for feelings in the middle of combat, after all. “At least you’ve dressed appropriately,” Calderon noted, taking in her loose-fitting tee and soft pants that taper at the ankles. Obviously, she wouldn’t have the luxury of a change of clothes in the moment, but it would work to get her comfortable. He prevented himself from lingering on the figure beneath with effort. 

“Glad to know you approve,” Solange muttered. “Let’s continue,” Calderon said without fanfare, surprised when his sparring partner didn’t utter something smart. Her expression still spoke volumes though. Calderon slid into a boxer stance, his training coming to him as natural as breathing. Before he could instruct her, Solange mimicked his stance, the annoyance ebbing into something else as she focused. Good. He glanced over her form, already seeing room for improvement.

“Your arm should be closer to your body.”

“Like this?” 

She pulled her arm in at an awkward, pronounced angle and Calderon wondered what would possess her to move like that. “...Not quite.” He went to stand behind her, adjusting her arms in the right position. “Your hand protects your chin, and your elbow protects your ribcage.” Solange pressed up against him invited memories he’d rather _not_ dwell on, but the scent of her hair was stronger than usual, and he suspected she'd washed it recently. It was sweet like honey but subtle, and with a start, Calderon realized it wasn’t just her hair that gave off the fragrance. 

“Uh, now what?” Solange’s voice was low, but if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that the close proximity was getting to her as well. He cleared his throat and backed away, nodding. Space was good. Space was _ideal_. He couldn’t properly teach her if he was caught up on the new body wash she used. It had to be new, as he was almost positive he would have noticed before. He quickly shoved those thoughts back before they could take root in his mind.

“Now we work on your movement.”

“Ughhh…”

For the next hour, he guided her footwork and corrected her arm placement until she grew visibly comfortable and bounced on her feet with the lightness of a seasoned fighter. Satisfied, he moved on to the mechanics of punching, allowing Solange to take jabs at him. He easily blocked each attempt as Solange grew more and more frustrated. They both sweated profusely now, breathing hard and the air was punctuated by Calderon’s, “Again. _Again._ Again!” Something snapped in Solange, and with a guttural cry, she put all her energy into landing a punch, limbs flying with her efforts. When her fist finally connected with his jaw, Calderon barely had time to react to the pain or anything else before she threw her leg out in a powerful kick. He dodged out of reach, moving on instinct and adrenaline, and the momentum sent Solange flying back. 

“ _Solange_!”

The ground was unforgiving, and if the training wasn’t enough to make her sore, she’d definitely be feeling all of this come the morning. He hurried over to check on her, but Solange waved his attempts off, slowly pulling herself into a seated position. Her breath was shallow with exertion, her face tinged red and slick with sweat, but when she locked eyes with him, her expression a mixture of surprise and delight, it was Calderon’s ultimate undoing. Her pride was his own. “I think that’s enough for today,” he said, again reaching out to help her. “Really? I figured we could go all night,” she snipped, sarcasm dripping, but accepted his hand and allowed herself to be pulled up. 

Whether from exhaustion or the delayed impact of landing, she didn't stay upright, instead falling into his arms. “I’m good, I’m good,” she repeated, pushing herself out of his embrace as if to assure herself as well as Calderon, but he didn’t like the way she swayed.

“You’re dehydrated,” he clipped out, the worry gathering at the back of his throat and making his words sound harsher than necessary. “You’re an ass,” Solange snapped back as he led her back into a sitting position, passing her the water container he grabbed just before meeting with her. She took small sips, eyes fluttering shut each time before they flew open to meet his own. When she had her fill, Calderon carefully took the container back, assessing her.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I just got the wind knocked out of me. How else would I feel?” He noted with disdain that she could sass him just fine, even in her state. It _was_ his fault for pushing her so hard on her first day, but it’s a wonder she didn’t make them stop sooner. 

“For someone without formal training, you were adequate today.” His lips quirked up, signaling that it was a compliment, and Solange set him with a severe look of her own before she shoved his shoulder in retaliation. “I guess the trainer wasn’t too bad.” She bit her lower lip, and suddenly her eyes communicated something completely different. Her flushed look looked so much like the wet dreams she starred in when couldn't fall asleep at night, Calderon forgot when and where he was. Before either of them could act on this heat though, the smolder morphed into a flash of pain across her features. “Owww…” she groaned, bringing a hand to cradle her arm. It was the splash of cold water Calderon needed. “We need to put some ice on that,” he noted, gently taking the injured arm. “If it involves standing, I think I’ll pass,” Solange sighed, pressing her thigh lightly as if testing for bruises. He didn’t miss the tight scrunch her face made each time she located an especially tender spot. He shook his head.

“It’s not up for debate.”

“Ha!”

In a fit of stubbornness, Solange laid back on the training mat, gritting her teeth against the pain just to prove her point. Calderon felt the beginnings of a headache press against his temple. They were done for the day. He went to stand but Solange stopped him, waving her hand as if to beckon him closer. “How’s your jaw?” He’d honestly forgotten about the one hit she’d gotten in, and the pain had dulled to an ignorable tightness. In lieu of his response though, Solange’s moaning started up again as she attempted to sit again. 

“I was getting there!” She pouted when he pulled her up with one arm. “I don’t need to be coddled,” she sighed, untangling herself from him. She looked over the training room, and he wondered what was going through her head in that moment. “I’ll head to the infirmary once we straighten up.”

Calderon shook his head, turning down the offer. “I’ve got it from here. Go get checked out.” Solange made a face. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I just realized Ryona is gonna kill me. No big deal. I’ll just lie and say I fell.” 

She laughed at her joke, stiffness in her movements as she walked off, and rather than the twinge of annoyance he usually felt towards her, he tracked the shadow that briefly crossed her face. Before he could address it, she paused, turning to face him. Her expression was open again but Calderon knew he hadn’t imagined what he’d seen before. 

“Thanks, for the training. I...No one ever thought it was necessary for me to learn. So. Thanks.”

Calderon met her honest words with a genuine smile of his own. “You’re a part of this crew, now. The least we can do is make sure you can hold your own.” She nodded at the words, loosening the hair in her bun only to gather it all again and wrap it in as tight of a bun as she could. And then she was off, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Calderon told himself she needed to learn how to protect herself, but the truth was he couldn’t bear to see her hurt. 


End file.
